Текст книги "Death on an Autumn River "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Akogi

“You should’ve seen what that brute did to her.  To them,” said Tora defensively.

“When I got there, the two women were in fear for their lives.  And the poor kid was . . . more dead than alive.”  He shook his head and looked at Akitada with deeply troubled eyes.  “How can a man hurt a little child like that?”  He looked at his hands as if they had suddenly turned into the claws of a wild beast.  “You saw her, sir.  She’s so little and weak.  He’s starved her and beaten her and made her young life a hell.  What sort of punishment would you give a man for that?”

“I don’t know, Tora, but you cannot take the law into your own hands in such a

public manner.  It reflects poorly on us and encourages people to do the same without justification.”

Saburo snorted.  Akitada shot him a repressive glance.  “And you stood by and let it happen.  I had hoped for better sense from you.”  The comment about monkeys falling from trees still rankled.

Both of them looked offended now.

Saburo said, “Lecturing a man like that fat slob is like reading a sutra to a horse.  Tora taught him a lesson he understands.”

“And how will you protect the mother and child after we leave here?”

They were silent.

Akitada relented a little.  “Oh, well.  I suppose the crowd outside was sympathetic.  I’ll mention the situation to the prefect.”

Tora asked, “How did your visit go, sir?”

“Munata has decided to cooperate.”

Tora whistled.  “Thank heaven.  I thought we’d fallen among all the devils in hell.  What about Watamaro?”

“He seems to have taken flight.  I’ll report to the court, but the matter is out of my hands.”

“And the local officials?”

“They, too, will have to face charges.  At the very least, negligence in carrying out their duties; at worst malfeasance.  I doubt if anyone can prove plans for an insurrection.”

“Lots of weapons in that warehouse,” Saburo pointed out. “Why collect them if not to outfit an army?”

“True, but the warehouse burned.”

Silence fell again.

After a while, Tora brightened a little.  “So, shall we go home?”

“Not quite yet.  There is still Akogi.  We have to go back to Eguchi.”

*

The following day, Akitada rode again through the gates of the River Mansion. He was more elegantly attired than last time.  The fine blue silk robe and white silk trousers were the only clothes he still owned and had been intended for the few official occasions when formal clothing was required.  Tora and Saburo, both neatly dressed in blue cloth robes, dark trousers, and small black caps, rode side by side behind him.  They, in turn, were followed by ten armed soldiers from the prefectural guard.

The lady’s servants rushed to help Akitada down and take his horse.  Betto Kakuan hurried down the steps of the main building.  He led him to a small reception room close to the river.

The sounds of water traffic and shouts from passing boats drifted in through the open doors and should have cheered him.  But the day was distinctly chilly, the sky overcast.  A cold rain had fallen overnight.  Autumn showed its harsher side, hinting at the snows to come.  The year was drawing to a close.

Dreary, rainy days always cast him into a somber mood, and recent events made his thoughts more bitter and funereal.  At home, the memories of Seimei would surround him.  He would finally have time to grieve.  Not even holding his wife and little daughter in his arms again would ease that pain.

He had come because of Akogi, a young life extinguished before she could taste it.  He had no proof that she was murdered, but his every instinct and what he had learned convinced him that she died horribly.  Most likely, she had been held under water until she stopped struggling.

The door opened, and the lady of the River Mansion tripped in, followed by another female.  On this occasion, the lady’s costume was strictly formal and proper for a ranking court lady of mature years.

Her companion carried a small folding screen, prettily painted with wisteria blooms overhanging a pond with playing koi.  This she set up between her mistress and Akitada before taking her own seat in a corner of the room.

“A pleasure to welcome you again, my Lord,” the lady said from behind her pretty screen and an open fan.  “I was disappointed by your abrupt departure the other night.”

Perhaps she expected an apology or a comment on his discovery of Sadenari.  Akitada ignored her.  With his sternest face, he said coldly, “I have been told, Lady Kazuko, that you arranged meetings between Oga Yoshiyo and the girl Akogi.  As a result of those meetings, both have died.”

She made a startled movement.  “Oh, that poor young man,” she said softly.  “I grieve for him.  He was the son I never had.  Such a sweet boy.  It is a great loss to his father.”

“I doubt his father thanked you for introducing him to Akogi.”

“But I did not,” she cried.  “At least not directly.  The governor knows that very well.  It was he himself who asked my help in the matter.”

“Perhaps you’d better explain.”

She moved her head impatiently.  “I don’t understand.  Why should I explain to you?  And why did you come here with armed soldiers?  I belong to the great chancellor’s family and live here under imperial protection.”

“I serve under special orders from the Minister of the Right.  The prefect supplied the escort.  As for this visit: during my investigation into local ties to piracy, the case of the murdered child courtesan came up.  Since her murder involves the highest-ranking official in the province, I thought it best to look into it.”  This skirted the question of his authority.  He hoped she would be nervous enough not to demand proof.

She did not.  Instead, she pleaded with him.  “Murder?  I know nothing about any murder.  Oga is a doting father, and the boy was his only son.  He wanted the best for him, but Yoshiyo always had his head in his books and talked about taking the tonsure.  That handsome boy!”  She paused to shake her head at the shocking thought.  “His father has been a guest at some of my little parties and thought I could show the lad what he’d be missing in a religious life.  I obliged him.  I invited the reigning choja, this year’s queen of the courtesans in Eguchi, and several other exquisite women.  The boy came with his father.  He was shy around the women, but he did speak to the young girl who attended the choja.”

Akitada knew what was coming and waited.

With a small sound of impatience, she continued.  “Yoshiyo returned the very next day.  Without his father.  He asked me to arrange meetings with the young one.  I argued.  To no avail.  There were difficulties.  The woman who runs the Hananoya wouldn’t hear of it, at least not without being paid the presentation money.  He paid it and forgot all about becoming a monk.  The two lovers met here, in the pavilion overlooking the river.  They made a charming couple, and I thought all was well, but then the young fool went to his father to ask for money to buy her out.  He wanted to make her his wife.  You may imagine what happened next.  The governor raged down here like a fiery dragon.  He swept in and threatened me.  Me!”  She shuddered at the memory.

“I see.  What did you do?”

“Nothing.  Why should I?  Let him deal with his own family problems.  He left to speak to the woman at the Hananoya, and that’s the last I know of it.”

“And then the girl was murdered?”

Again the impatient movement behind the screen. “Not murder.  She must have drowned herself in despair.”

“From what you say about the young people being deeply in love . . . or at least thoroughly infatuated with each other . . . I think Akogi would have run away to be with him.  She would not have killed herself.”

Lady Kazuko said irritably, “Have it your way.  I told you all I know.  And now you may leave and take your soldiers with you.”

And that was that.

*

His next visit was to the Hananoya, the brothel where Akogi had trained.  He left the soldiers outside but took Tora and Saburo with him.  The owner was a short, middle-aged female whose elaborately twisted hair looked false and who wore an inappropriate and costly silk brocade gown.  She smiled, bowed deeply, and asked how she might serve the honored gentleman.

“I have some questions regarding one of your women,” said Akitada.

“This insignificant person is at your lordship’s service.  Nakagimi, the current choja resides in this house.  Alas, she is not available, but my other young ladies are as pretty and very talented.  How may we please you?”

Akitada sat down and waved to Tora and Saburo to do the same.  “Send for her.  I’ll wait.”

So her name was Nakagimi.  He had been too besotted to ask her.

The Hananoya’s owner blinked.  Then she bowed.  “My deepest apologies, your Honor, but a choja cannot be summoned at short notice.  She receives invitations, and if she feels like it, she attends.”

Akitada raised his voice a little.  “You’re wasting my time, woman.  She will answer questions, not entertain.  If you don’t bring her, my attendants will do so.”

A servant slipped in and whispered something in her mistress’ ear.  The owner of the Hananoya looked less assured.  “My maid says there are soldiers outside.  What is this about, my Lord?”

“The girl Akogi.  Go get the choja.”

Perhaps there was fear in her eyes, but she hid it well.  “A moment,” she murmured and left with the servant.

“That one’s a killer if ever I saw one,” muttered Tora.  “I bet she beats the girls and cheats them out of their money.”

Tora had considerable experience with brothels and their inhabitants, much to Akitada’s irritation over the years.  Now Akitada wished he had been more understanding.  He had a great deal to be ashamed of and would have done much to avoid the coming encounter.

The owner returned presently, followed by the young woman who had come so painfully close to seducing Akitada during the party.  Nakagimi wore only her thin silk undergown and a loose embroidered robe over it.  Perhaps she had been roused from a sound sleep.  He was almost afraid to look at her and hoped that in the light of day he would find her vulgar and tawdry.  Instead, she looked enchantingly flushed and confused.

She recognized him, flushed a little more deeply, and knelt.  “Lord Sugawara,” she murmured, “you honor me.  I thought you had forgotten our time together.  Please forgive my appearance.”

Aware of Tora’s eyes boring into his back, Akitada said stiffly, “I have come because you may have information about the death of the shinju Akogi.  I was told that she attended you when you were introduced to the governor’s son.”

“That is so, my Lord.”

Akitada caught a glimpse of trembling lips and steeled his heart.  “It must have been irritating for you that a mere child captured the young man’s heart.”

That made her angry.  She bit her lips.  “Not at all,” she said coldly.  Then she caught herself, lowered her lashes, and added more softly, “I prefer older men.  Men of your own age, I mean, my Lord.”

Akitada cursed the woman inwardly.  “I understand the governor found out about the relationship between Akogi and his son and came here to put a stop to it.”

She looked at the owner of the Hananoya.  “You would have to ask Mrs. Wada.”

“Well, Mrs. Wada?  What did Lord Oga say to you?”

The mistress of the Hananoya answered calmly enough. “His Excellency asked me to stop future meetings.  I agreed and informed Akogi.  The foolish girl was very upset.  That very night she drowned herself.  I blame myself.  I should have realized how strong her emotions were.”

A brief silence followed, then Nakagimi said flatly, “Akogi did not drown herself.”

Her mistress snapped, “You know nothing about it!”

The younger woman flushed with anger.  “I know what I know,” she said darkly.

Akitada would have followed up on that, but he decided to let it go for the moment. “I understand you are related to the local warden, Mrs. Wada.  What is that relationship precisely?”

“He’s my husband.”

“No doubt that is helpful in your business?”

“The business is mine, my Lord.”

“Indeed.  But I expect you called on his assistance when the governor turned his anger on you.”

“Oh.”  The choja sucked in her breath.  She was staring at Mrs. Wada, clearly shocked by a thought that had occurred to her.

“You must tell what you know, Nakagimi,” Akitada said.  “Akogi was murdered, and we believe the Wadas are implicated.”

“Murdered?”  She glanced at him and back at the older woman.  “I will not stay here any longer.  This scandal will ruin my future.”

Her reaction was utterly self-serving, and she lost all of her attractiveness for Akitada at that moment.  He hated that he had once again been proved correct in his disdain for courtesans and women of the street and rose in disgust.

Mrs. Wada glared at the choja. “It’s all nonsense.  And you cannot leave.  We have a contract.”

Nakagimi raised her chin.  “I’m buying myself out.”

Instantly, the women fell into a heated argument over moneys and rules.  Akitada broke in sharply, “Enough!  You’re both under arrest until the matter is cleared up.”

They protested.  The choja cried, “No.  I’ll tell you what happened.  I heard it all.  I didn’t know what they were up to, but I know she gave Akogi to her husband, and that was the last that anyone has seen of her.”

Mrs. Wada screamed abuse and hurled herself at the choja, and the choja fought back by biting and scratching.  Akitada jumped aside in alarm, while Tora strode into the middle of the fracas, seized the women by their flailing arms and pulled them apart.

“Thank you,” said Akitada with a sigh of relief.  “Saburo, call the soldiers. They can take the women and the warden to the prefectural jail for interrogation.”

Their departure became noisy and ugly, but Akitada was adamant.  He was fed up with them.  Let the authorities handle the matter.

The warden arrived just as the women were dragged outside with their hands tied behind their backs.  He goggled and demanded, “What’s all this? What are you doing in my ward?  Let my wife and the choja go this minute.”

The guard officer grinned down from his horse.  “Sorry, Wada.  We were just going to inform you in person, but you’ve saved us the trouble.  You’re all under arrest.”

*

Content in the knowledge that the Wadas had confessed and were safely jailed and awaiting trial, Akitada paid a final visit to Professor Otomo.  The house was silent and no one answered his call.  The silence seemed ominous and made him nervous.

He found the old couple, seated side by side in the main room of the house, small, shrunken figures in the stiff hemp gowns of deep mourning.  The professor’s wife was weeping silently, her face wet with tears.  She clutched her husband’s hand.  The professor looked pale but calm.  He met Akitada’s eyes with resignation.

“Am I under arrest?” he asked.

“Are you guilty of a crime?”

“Perhaps.  I don’t care, but my wife is innocent.  It would trouble me to leave her.”

His wife squeezed his hand and smiled tremulously through her tears.

Akitada sighed and seated himself.  “What are you doing?  Why the mourning?  Surely that isn’t customary for a former pupil.”

The old people looked at each other.  Then the professor said, “Yoshiyo was our grandson.  We loved him more than our lives.”

Akitada gaped at them. “Your grandson?”

“Yes.  Our daughter died when he was small.  She was the governor’s concubine.  That was my fault.  I should not have permitted it.”

His wife said, “Nonsense, my dear.  She loved him.  And you would not have had Yoshiyo.”

Her husband bowed his head.

This came as a surprise, but one that might explain much.  “Is that why you lied to me about the Korean girls?”

The old man nodded.  “Yes, to my shame.  The amulet was my daughter’s, and she had passed to Yoshiyo.  I knew he had given it to Akogi.  When you mentioned the drowned girl and showed me the amulet, I was desperate to keep him from finding out.”

“And so you tried to convince me that the girl we found committed suicide because she had been abducted from Korea?”

The professor nodded.  “Yes, I had to make up a story to account for the amulet.  A man’s love for his children and grandchildren, it seems, is stronger than his regard for his honor.  Please forgive me.”

They sat in silence.  Akitada pondered his own past and thought of Seimei.  Seimei, Tora, and Tamako had helped him shed the black despair that had nearly turned to self-destruction.  He felt great pity for the two old people.

He sighed and took the amulet from his sash.  Placing it before Otomo, he said,  “You must have hated leaving this in my hands.  I lost a child myself and, in my grief I, too, made mistakes.  I cannot restore your grandson to you, but I can at least tell you what happened. Your grandson loved Akogi, and I believe she loved him too much to forget him.  In his rage, the governor threatened the owner of the Hananoya, and she and her husband took her young life.  They have been arrested and have confessed.”

The professor moaned and dropped his head into his hands.  His wife cried out in horror.  After a moment, Otomo looked up.  “This is horrible, but the governor cannot be responsible for it.  He would never order such a thing.  You must believe me.”

Akitada had considered this.  “They have accused him,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean much. Still, even if he gave no orders, he bears responsibility.  His love for his son drove him to separate the two young people.  Sometimes, excessive love brings death to the very person we cling to.”

The professor shook his head.  “If so, his punishment has been terrible.  We have all been punished.”

Mrs. Otomo reached for the amulet and placed it in her husband’s hand.  “You and I,” she said, “ we forgot all others when we were thinking only of those we loved.  My dear, there must be many things you can still teach the young.  Let them be your grandchildren.”

Professor Otomo looked at the amulet.  With a sad smile, he said, “What is a man to do with a foolish wife?”  Then he put his arm around her and drew her close.

Akitada nodded to both of them.  “One should always accept a generous gift.”

Chapter Thirty

Homecoming

The return to a house that no longer contained Seimei was unexpectedly eased by Saburo.  He was an odd addition to the Sugawara household, even given Akitada’s dislike of spies and Tora’s fear of demons.

The evening of their departure from Naniwa, Saburo had approached Akitada in his typically offhand manner.  “Well, you’re finished here,” he said, his face working quite horribly.  “I’ll say goodbye then.”  He looked down at himself and stroked his new clothes with his good hand.  “You’ll want these back, right?”

Akitada had not come to any decision about Saburo, but he certainly did not want his clothes back.  “Of course not.”

“Oh.”  Saburo did not look at him.  He fingered the fabric of his robe and sighed.

Conscience smote Akitada.  There was hardly a creature in this land who had suffered more at the hands of his fellow man than this one.  He had even more suffering to look forward to, and neither his new clothes nor his innate intelligence would protect him from being shunned.  He said, “If you like, you can come along with us.  We can use some help for a while.  How long you stay will depend on your behavior.  My position doesn’t permit my people to behave scandalously or illegally.”  He paused.  “The decision is up to you.  What do you say?”

Saburo drew himself up.  “I’m aware of your position, sir.  As for becoming your servant, I’ll try it.  I may stay if I like it.  Haven’t been to the capital in a while.  It’ll make a change.”

And that was that.  No word or gesture of gratitude.  No bowing or kneeling or fervent promises of loyal service.  Saburo turned on his heel and left.

To be fair, on the journey home, he took on the humblest chores without being told, cleaning their boots, looking after the horses at the post stations, carrying saddlebags.  He managed to do a great deal of work, even with a nearly useless arm.

Saburo knew his way around horses and seemed to have other useful skills.

Tora told him about the capital and the routine in the Sugawara hosehold.  Akitada did the same for the other family members and his own habits.  When Tora asked Saburo about being a spy, he answered briefly and with a nervous glance at Akitada.

It was only when Genba swung the gates wide that Akitada had a moment of panic.  What would his family make of the horribly disfigured creature he was about to introduce into their midst?

Genba was glad to see them until he saw Saburo.  And when Tora introduced him as a new servant, Genba’s face fell even more, though he nodded politely.  More problems?

But Akitada had no time to worry about Genba’s feelings.  The main doors flew open, and the children rushed down the stairs, shouting and laughing.  Behind them, came Tamako, looking deceptively pale and fragile in her dark robe because they were still in mourning for Seimei.  But there was no time for grief either:  His daughter Yasuko flung herself into his arms, and Yuki did the same for Tora.

To see his wife again and hold his child was almost more than Akitada could bear.  He hugged Yasuko tightly and murmured an endearment into her ear.  It was a moment of pure happiness.

Then Yasuko’s eyes fell on Saburo and widened.  “Who’s that man, Papa?”

Saburo hung back, holding the horses, and was now drifting off in the direction of the stables.  Akitada called after him, “Come and meet my family, Saburo.”

He came, his head bowed until his chin touched his chest.  He bowed to Tamako first.  “My Lady.”

Akitada said, “Saburo has agreed to stay with us and help out wherever he’s needed.  He has had an interesting life.”

He saw that Tamako understood.  Her face warmed. “You’re very welcome in our house, Saburo,” she said, giving the ugly man a smile.

Yasuko asked, “What’s the matter with your face, Saburo?”

Her parents tried to speak at the same time, Akitada to explain, and his wife to remind her daughter of her manners.  Both broke off, embarrassed.

Saburo raised his good hand to his disfigured cheek.  “It got cut, Lady Yasuko.  I hope it doesn’t frighten you.”

“No.  I’m not frightened.”  She studied him with a solemn expression—Saburo bore it patiently—then she smiled at him. “Poor Saburo.  I’m sorry you got hurt.”

Saburo’s face worked for a moment. “Thank you, little lady,” he said.  “Perhaps, if your honored parents permit it, I’ll tell you some good stories some time.  I know lots of stories.”

“Me, too,” cried Yuki, running over.  “I like stories, too.”

*

With his household thus adjusting to change, Akitada went early the next morning to present his reports at the Second Minister’s office in the Dajokan-cho, the building housing the offices of the great council of state.

He had spared Munata and Oga as much as he could and stressed Munata’s help in quelling Watamaro’s aspirations.  He felt certain they had been dangerous aspirations and urged that the government deal firmly with the fugitive Watamaro and his pirates.  Otomo he did not mention at all.  He had suffered enough.  Oga was another matter because of his involvement in the murder of Akogi, but that crime did not concern the council of state, and Akitada hoped that the loss of his only son was punishment enough for Oga’s ruthless handling of the love affair.

In the Second Minister’s office, he was not asked to make his report in person.  He was neither surprised nor offended by this.  His rank was far too low for him to be consulted by a man who stood at the top of the government.

From the Dajokan-cho, he walked to the Ministry of Justice.  As he entered and walked down the corridor, the familiar surroundings cheered him until he heard boisterous voices coming from the archives.  He put his head in and saw Sadenari, perched on a ladder and surrounded by six or eight of the youngest clerks.  He seemed to be regaling his spellbound audience with a highly colored account of his exploits among pirates and courtesans.  Sadenari was too engrossed to see him right away, and Akitada took a step inside.

“Hard at work, Sadenari?” he asked.

The other youngsters scattered, and Sadenari slid down, flushing crimson.  Akitada merely looked at him, then turned and left.

Fujiwara Kaneie was in his office and received him happily.  “My dear Akitada, welcome.  Sit down.  You’ve been missed.  All sorts of things are in arrears, and I cannot get any work out of the young clerks.  Are you all done with that irritating piracy business?”

Akitada bowed, sat, and indicated he was.

“Well, that’s good.  You’re to have some leave, what with the recent death of your old retainer, but if you would just have a peek at a few matters before you take it, I’d be very grateful.”

“Of course, sir.  You are well, I trust?”

“Yes, yes.  Thank the gods.  I’ll be on my way into the country to have a look at my family estate now that you’re back.  Getting in a little hunting perhaps.  Do you hunt?”

“No, sir.  Not lately anyway.”

“I’m going to try falcons.  The sport of emperors.”  He laughed.  “Very clever birds, I’m told.  You just toss one into the air and it chases down your duck or rabbit or whatever and brings it back.  Imagine that.”

“Very impressive.  May I ask what you have decided to do about Sadenari, sir?”

The minister’s face fell.  “Ah, yes.  Silly boy!  Sorry he gave you a hard time.  I’ve put him in the archives.  Surely that’ll teach him a lesson.”

Akitada sighed inwardly.  The young man was a liability, and Akitada had little hope that he would become a useful member of the ministry, but his exploits in Eguchi had mostly been due to youthful foolishness and an excess of libido.  He recalled the young man’s humble family and thought it best to leave matters alone, provided he was never saddled with him again.

“By the way,” the minister said, “the governor of Settsu . . . man by the name of Oga.  You must’ve met him.”

“Yes, I did.  What about him?”

“Resigned his office.  Says he decided to take the tonsure.  Why is everybody in such a hurry to enter a monastery these days?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Exactly.  It’s a mystery.”  The minister pushed a stack of document boxes toward Akitada.  “Here are some of the cases you need to have a look at.  Handle them any way you see fit.  I have the utmost confidence in you.  Well, I think that’s all.  I should be back in another week.”

Akitada carried the boxes to his office where his elderly clerk greeted him with a smile and the words, “Oh, dear.  More documents?  There’s no room.  His Excellency has been sending everything here for the past two weeks.”

Akitada looked around his small room.  Every surface was covered with boxes and scrolls, some with small tags attached that proclaimed them to be urgent.  He put the boxes in his arms on the floor, and went to sit behind his desk, staring at the stacks that rose before him and threatened to topple in his lap.  It reminded him of Nakahara’s desk.

The clerk offered, “Shall I clear the desk a little?  I can put all those on the floor with the new ones.”

Life was back to normal.

*

The next morning, Akitada rose early and stepped from his wife’s room out onto her veranda.  It was dawn of another fine day.  Their wisteria was not blooming so late in the year, but it looked particularly healthy and lush, with many seedpods dangling among the leaves.  Already the small maple had turned completely red, and Tamako’s chrysanthemums bloomed lavishly white and golden yellow.

He sat down and thought about his marriage.  He had felt shame while making love to his wife last night, shame because he had wanted to bed the choja Nakagimi.  Even this morning in his peaceful domesticity, his feelings were still ambivalent.  He knew he would have taken Nakagimi that night if not for Sadenari’s appearance.  He had lacked both the strength of character and the wish to resist.  As for Nakagimi, she was very beautiful, but there had been a hardness about her that he found repellent.  Had he been angry with her because of his own failure?

He pondered this for a while.  A bird began to sing somewhere close by.

He had been unfair, he decided.  More than likely, she, like Akogi, had suffered a “presentation” when she was still a very young girl.  But she had not fallen in love with a handsome and dashing young nobleman.  No doubt she had been taken by an older man who had been both unattractive and inconsiderate.  She had learned early to look out for herself because no one else would.

He sighed.  He must learn not to judge people too harshly.  Even Watamaro had gone into his violent and mercenary business with a wish to improve the lot of poor sailors and fishermen.

A rustling of the bed clothes in the room behind him reminded him of the eager and passionate lovemaking he and Tamako had shared.  No courtesan could improve on that.  With a smile, he rose to get his flute and play for his wife.  He walked quickly from her garden to his and into his study.  Taking the flute from its box, he returned.

To his delight, the sun had risen over the trees and struck the top of the maple, making the crimson foliage blaze more brilliantly than the most costly dyed silk robe fit for an empress.  He put the flute to his lips and played.

Tamako came out and stood listening.  He looked at her in her white undergown with a flowered quilt wrapped around her shoulders against the chill morning air.  She was beautiful, and he put his heart into the song.  She was his beloved, his luminous pearl beyond compare.

When he finished, she came to him.  “How lovely,” she said, touching his cheek and looking at him with moist eyes.

“Thank you, my dear.”  He put an arm around her and pointed with the flute.  “Look.  See how the sun brings out the fire in those maple leaves.  I am very happy at this moment.”

“I was very happy last night,” she murmured with a smile.  “Oh, Akitada, I wanted to wait to be quite sure, but I’ll tell you now.  I think I am with child again.”

He pulled her close, his heart full of joy.  “I wish Seimei could be here.”